Something More Than Lonliness
by Alet-san
Summary: Sano's gone and Katsu's stuck in a rut until, of all things, and inconvieniently-placed group of bandits gives him a leg out of it - but don't take that to mean all is well. Will he be able to endure the circumstances - and company - that it places him in
1. Default Chapter

Ooooookay. This story is rated PG-13 for: Language, bitterness, bitching, crudity, and mild descriptions of injury and insanity. Oh, and gayness. Got a problem -- get out. It's that simple. (To the interested, this is not the sequel to HBT)

* * *

Tsukioka Katsuhiro was not a happy man – both in the general, everyday, and in the specific, right-now sense. There were many causes for this, but if one _had_ to be singled out as the main cause, it would _not_ be that Sano was gone.

Definitely not.

After all, why should he _care_ that Sano left? He hadn't even been back for a year, and almost a year of something was a drop in the bucket when compared to ten years of nothing. Yes, he had cared before, cared that Sano was gone, cared that he had left with a smile, a nod, a last request for money and contacts that was never going to be repaid now, and a "oh, by the way, see ya later" except that he wouldn't … Katsu had cared very much, as a matter of fact. He had just gotten used to Sano always being around, and then he left. But really – hadn't he expected something of the sort to happen? Hadn't he _known_ that Sano was going to leave? Of course he had. And he hadn't cried, this time. No – Katsu was a grown man, and it wasn't proper for grown men to cry like little boys, even when their best friends were leaving.

People leave. Sometimes they die, sometimes they just go away. No one's so special that the world will stop in its tracks for them: people leave – so what. Deal with it. Pick up the pieces and move on. If they're worth anything, they wouldn't want you to spend any more time grieving than you have to.

Sano was worth something.

So no, Katsu wasn't unhappy that Sano was gone, not anymore. What he was unhappy about now was his current location – or rather, lack thereof.

Katsu was traveling. He _hated_ traveling with a passion, especially since he couldn't afford a train ticket. Not that any trains _ran_ from Tokyo to Nagano, but still. It was three days walk from Tokyo to the village of Nagano and Zenkoji temple, allowing for sleep and meals. For Katsu, who was _not_ as active as Sano was, three days of straight walking was no little thing …

"_Achoo!"_

Katsu sniffed and rubbed his nose irritably. And then there was the sick thing. He had picked it up on the way home (this was his second day of travel) – nothing terribly major: a slight headache, fuzzy senses, delayed reaction time, and a nasty cough weren't life-threatening at all, really. It was just enough to render him completely miserable while still almost completely able to travel, and, stubborn ass that he was, he had turned down the offer of a few days recovery time from the monks at the temple. Oh well. He was over halfway there, after all …

Unfortunately for him, Katsu was _just_ sick enough that he didn't notice the bandits on the side of the road … not that he would have been able to do anything against them if he had. His lack of self-defense without a bomb or two handy was really starting to irritate Katsu – too late for that now.

His last thought was "oh, shit," which is a terrible and all-to-common last thought to have, especially when you know what the odds are of ever having another.


	2. Chapter 2

Once, Yukishiro Enishi was a man to be respected. Not feared (not _only_ feared), but truly _respected_ – treated with honor and dignity, and recognized as the warrior he was. People who had never seen him before moved out of his way in the streets. People who _had_ seen him before moved faster. He commanded respect in one of the largest cities in China. Yes, those had been the days …

Now, he killed bandits for a tiny flyspeck of a town and lived in a not-really-all-_that_-run-down shack in the woods outside of said town. In return, they gave him what things he needed that he could not get himself (blankets, lanterns, paper, and similar things), usually via parcels left on the steps, and avoided him as much as possible. Occasionally, a child would come to see if "Shriotora" really _would_ bite his head off if he didn't wash behind his ears, but mostly they seemed to have gotten that out of their systems by now.

The irony never failed to make him want to smash his head into a wall. Or, preferably, to smash Battousai's head into a wall. Some things just don't change. Mostly, he had adjusted, though. Had given in to the fact that his hatred for Battousai was not his sister's wish. Had never been her wish. Never would be her wish.

But he hated him anyways.

Tomoe had smiled when Enishi told himself that he would not try to kill Battousai again, ever. Then she had left him.

_She_ had _left_ him. She was gone – as if she had never existed. That had happened after he finished reading her journal (to call it a diary seemed too girlish, too trivial a name to associate with the serene, mature woman Tomoe wa- …. had been), in Rakuminmura. After that, Enishi had gone mad – even by his standards.

There was no thought, no consciousness nor awareness of anything around him except in the most primitive sense imaginable. He had become, for all intents and purposes, a wild animal – not truly living, but existing day to day in a state of primal savagery. There was no concept of the passage of time – he slept when he was tired, woke when he was not – and procession of days and seasons were given only the most cursory attention, if any at all. All in all, Enishi's period as that mindless animal lasted about two months … but he didn't find that out until much later.

There was no grand revelation – no reason at all, really: one moment, there was no consciousness, nothing beyond the most brutal and primitive emotion, and the next moment, Yukishiro Enishi crouched, fully aware, underneath a tree somewhere, with the mangled corpse of a small, now-unidentifiable animal at his feet, his hands stained an accusatory crimson and the taste of copper and raw meat in his mouth.

_Not_ one of the most pleasant ways to suddenly return to the realm of human thought. Nor, for that matter, one of the most psychologically enjoyable. But … when did anything ever come easy for him? Enishi had adapted, like he always had and always would - the difference being, before, he had chased the Battousai, and now, he chased bandits.

From one kind of scum to another … but at least it was something to do.

This particular pack had been more determined than most, and one of them had actually managed to score a hit on Enishi before he had killed them all – a long, shallow gash along his abdomen. It was nothing life-threatening, but it bled rather steadily, and Enishi wanted to get "home" where he could bandage it up relatively soon. He couldn't leave just yet, though – these bandits had attacked someone before he had gotten to them.

This wasn't all that of an uncommon occurrence, really, and Enishi knew what to do. 1) Take the victim to the shack 2) patch up any injuries they might have 2.a) if they're conscious and healthy enough, make them leave now, or 3) wait until they _are_ conscious/healthy enough and then make them leave. It happened often enough, actually, that Enishi had gone to the trouble of getting a spare futon after the third severely injured "guest" had robbed him of the use of his for a few days.

He eyed the unconscious man critically (definitely a man – there was nothing feminine about him, despite the almost old-fashioned long hair), scanning for injuries and finding plenty. Besides the obvious cuts and slashes and the arrow rising prominently from the man's ribs, it looked like he had hit the ground _hard_, and that at least one of the bandits had taken a club to him – presumably in retribution for not having any money. Enishi squatted down on his heels to check for a pulse (no point in fixing up a dead man) and found one; fairly weak, but steady enough, considering the circumstances. He gave the man about a 50/50 chance of surviving – odds which would be quite optimistic to anyone looking at him.

Enishi picked him up – grunting as he did so, for the unknown man was _certainly_ not very light, and dead weight besides – and, stooping to pick up the money purse that had been hidden underneath the other man's body (sometimes bandits were _so_ stupid that Enishi was _glad_ to rid the world of them), carried him off to the shack and somewhat more reasonable chances of survival. He was very careful, of course, not to aggravate the man's injuries _too_ much – no point in carrying him all the way to his shack just to have the man die _en route.  
  
_

* * *

Okay, who forgot to upload the next chapter on time? 'Cause I sure did. Oh well. For those of you who are wondering if that means anything, yes, I have a bit of a backlog on this story . . . and I'm aiming for once a week updates, because I am not crazy anymore and am not going to try to do the daily crap anymore. Now, on to the review! (Note singular)

Kuroiyousei: Actually, I didn't mean for Katsu to come across as miserable that Sano was gone . . . miserable that he was traveling, yes, but not because Sano really was gone. For once, it's not a case of the character deluding himself . . . Katsu misses Sano, but he's not miserable now that he's gone . . . just lonely. And that's to be fixed soon, we know. :D  
__


End file.
